Stolen by the System

The disappointingly few Erinbar volunteers led the army through the forest. Five Prowlers, eleven Lookouts, and a handful of hunters.

Ted seethed in silence. Better than nothing, but they could have sent so many more.

Marching through the night, they’d arrive at Tolabar by dawn. Because who needed sleep every single night?

Apparently not dwarves and wood elves.

Luther clapped him on the back. “Chin up, lad. The dungeon spawn won’t know what hit them.”

Aching pain twisted around Ted’s heart. Was she still alive? Were any of them? “We’ll see.”

“You mentioned a spell to communicate via the portals?”

“I did?” Ted blinked. Right. He gestured to Luther’s left hand. “Can I see that Ring of Communication?”

Luther handed over the ring and Ted held it up to examine it. Despite its pristine condition, it had to be at least ten thousand years old.

Complex Portal and Telepathy magic intertwined and permeated the golden band, while protective magic covered the surface. Much like the Ring of Return, it linked up to the relevant portal stone and instructed it to connect back to the caster.

The reference in the ring to the Valbort portal stone was simpler than the full code, using only the immutable part. That made sense—communication needed less security than the potential to transport an army into the heart of a city. The simpler code acted as a permanent identifier, without unlocking the gate entirely.

Ted created a spell based on the ring and jogged out to a safe distance from the army to test it. He cast a selection of Absorb effects first, without much hope they’d help, and then the new Portals-Telepathy/Self/Telephone spell.

A telepathic presence brushed against his mind, and he made contact with the dwarven mage on duty in Valbort. Besides a few scattered engagements with small roving groups of dungeon spawn, everything was quiet on their end.

No news was good news, for once. Ted returned to Luther and taught him the new spell.

“Good work,” Luther said. “I’ll pass it along to the others.”

“Right. Before you go, do you have a moment?”

“Only all night.”

Ted chuckled. “I hit Spellcrafter level 10.”

“Congratulations. Your first skill Specialization, then?”

“Yeah. You’ve been around a few centuries. What do you think I should do?”

Luther stroked his beard and pondered for a while. “Rituals are always a wildcard. I wouldn’t trust them. With enough effort, Continuous spells could be taught to almost anyone. An army going into battle with precast Continuous Protection spells on every soldier would be fearsome indeed.”

Ted nodded along. Helping to keep entire armies safe and alive? It would be hard to choose anything other than that, even without considering the personal benefits of continuous spells.

“On the other hand, grimoires would allow us to train mages quicker and more safely. Useful, although not to the same degree.”

“And if I could teach Dispel that way?” Ted asked.

“Dispel magic is incredibly rare and powerful. That would complicate the choice.”

Ted’s chest tightened. How many lives hung on this choice? Too damned many. “It’s my decision, isn’t it?”

Of course it was. He gritted his teeth and mulled over the options. There wasn’t much time to decide. If he was going to choose Continuous spells, it would be best to do so now, that he might train the dwarven mages in them as they arrived at Tolabar.

Tolabar. So close, yet so far.

Be safe, Cara. We’re coming.

***

Pain ripped at Cara’s heart. She wiped away the tears and kneeled down in a nice patch of dirt.

“Come on girl,” she purred, putting Nibbles down onto the Forest floor. “Go free. Live your life.”

Nibbles stared up at her and squeaked. A tiny, heart-wrenching squeak.

Cara shooed her little darling away. “Go!”

Not that Nibbles ever listened. The beautiful little girl bounded up Cara’s leg and scampered all the way up to her shoulder. Squeak! Squeak!

She couldn’t help herself from smiling and petting her darling. “You don’t want to go anywhere, huh?”

Squeak! Squeak! Tiny little teeth nibbled at Cara’s earlobe.

A warm glow swelled in Cara’s chest. Her little baby wasn’t going to leave her, not when staying was an option. “Alright, girl. You can stay for now, but promise me you’ll go on without me?”

Squeak! Nibbles rubbed her furry little face against Cara’s neck. Squeak squeak squeak!

“You okay there?”

Cara jumped and spun around. It was only Gramok. “Oh…” Her heart slowed, and she forced out a smile. “Hey. Yeah.”

“You can do this,” Gramok said, with a warm, misplaced confidence. “We’re going to make it through this, and then we’re going to give Nibbles every last treat we can find.”

She scowled up at him. “How can you be so damned confident?”

He grinned from ear to ear. “I always bet I’m going to live. Hard to lose that bet.”

“Unless you die.”

He shrugged and petted the purring Nibbles. “If I’m dead, does it matter?”

How selfish! Cara crossed her arms and scowled harder. Not that she could be mad at him, not while he was petting Nibbles. “What about everyone else?”

“You’d rather I died unhappy? Being dour won’t stop a sword or a firebolt.”

“No, but…” She glared at him through narrowed eyes, wishing that it didn’t make so damned much sense. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Reassigned. Apparently, there’s this badass ranger group that needs a wall of muscle protecting them. Know anything about that?”

“Badass ranger group, huh?” Cara scoffed and shook her head, trying not to give in to the loosening tension in her muscles. “Thought you were already in that group.”

“Yeah, well…” Gramok leaned against a tree and looked away. “Turns out my ego couldn’t take being side-by-side with Jeremy. That guy’s insane!”

Despite her best attempts, a smirk snuck across Cara’s lips. “That’s what a few hundred years of all work and no fun does to a man. Nothing you have to worry about.”

A somber note tainted Gramok’s laugh. “I guess you’re right there. So, Prowler, what are your orders?”

They walked back toward the clearing and doubt prodded at Cara’s insides. Gramok would make a great addition to the squad for a battle they couldn’t retreat from, but he wasn’t the sort to change battle plans on a whim.

She paused, and turned to face him. “Thank you for coming. I’m glad you’re with us, but I need to know why.”

His lips smiled, but for once, his eyes did not. “You needed a front-line fighter, didn’t you?”

Cara put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Try again. I’ve known Kegan, Nola, and—” Agony twisted her heart. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve known Kegan and Nola for years. I’ve watched them, studied them, trained with them. I understand them.”

Gramok held up his hands and flashed a fake grin. “I enjoy fighting, drinking, and all manner of fun. What’s not to get?”

“The truth. Why transfer?”

His shoulders slumped, and he let out a long exhale. “If I’m going to die… I’d rather be fighting alongside a friend than a stranger.”

She blinked and her jaw hung open. A friend? She threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. “Thank you. For everything.”

He hugged her back. “Anytime.”

Cara swallowed. It wasn’t right. This wasn’t his fight. “You should flee while you can. You might make it to Erinbar.”

“You were there for me when I was trying to get myself killed. Only fair I return the favor.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I.” Gramok broke the hug and lifted her chin. “Let’s go. We have a battle to win.”

Cara nodded and led them back to where the wood elves were clustered around a ring of trees in the middle of the huge clearing. The Redoubt—the fallback position of Tolabar, unused since the Age of Heroes.

A lump formed in Cara’s throat every time she thought about it. The entire village, gathered together for one last stand. So many she barely knew most of them, and too few rangers amongst them.

Scared faces peered down from the archer nests above. One of them stared directly at Cara, his expression completely blank. How old was he? Twenty? Thirty? Barely large enough to carry that bow, let alone shoot it.

Why had it come to this? If only Ted were here… Not that he’d be able to make a difference.

The squad—those of the squad still alive—were stationed outside the inner circle of tree-towers, one more link in a chain between the civilians and the dungeon spawn. If all went well, the civilians would remain safely behind the battle-line, shooting what they could.

A cold void filled Cara’s chest. No battle was ever that tidy, and they were desperately outnumbered. Many wouldn’t make it through the day.

“What’s the plan?” Kegan asked, bouncing from foot to foot.

“We wait. Jeremy’s sure that they’ll come for the dryad’s corpse.”

Nola scowled and spat at the ground. “And if they don’t come?”

“Then we live another day.” Cara straightened up and took a deep breath. “Gramok will be upfront. Kegan, you’re behind him—skirmish anything that gets past. Nola, you’re in that archery nest calling shots. Keep your minds on the job! This is going to be a long day.”

Kegan and Gramok nodded and huddled up, discussing tactics amongst themselves. Nola stood still, her head cocked, eyeing Cara with a disconcerting blankness.

“I need you today, Nola.”

“You don’t need to keep me safe.”

“I’m not—” Cara paused, and sighed. She moved close to Nola and whispered, “I need someone cool under pressure up there. Someone to keep them calm and shooting the right targets.”

Nola’s eyes narrowed. Seconds dragged by, agonizingly slowly. Eventually, she nodded. “You’re right. And Cara… whatever happens…” Her nose wrinkled and the muscles around her eyes twitched. “Thank you for making the right choice.”

Cold tendrils gripped Cara’s heart. Aidan.

She bowed her head and watched Nola trudge away. He’d been her responsibility, and now he was dead. Worse, Nola wasn’t wrong. It had been the right choice.

Damn the dungeon spawn, and damn the dryads! They’d burn if it was the last thing Cara ever did.

She stared out at the tree line and growled. How many dungeon spawn would they have to fight? Would the dryads dare to show their faces again? Or would they hide away like cowards and let the dungeon spawn do their dirty work for them?

Elivala’s thoughts pressed against Cara’s mind. Incoming. Be ready.

Cara nocked an arrow and shouted, “Incoming! Ready up!”

Gramok swung his huge dragon-emblazoned shield down off his back. Kegan readied his bow. Nola launched herself up the rope ladder to the archer’s nest, and immediately set about correcting a young boy’s posture.

Not a boy anymore. An archer.

Cara swallowed. What the hell had happened to them? How could turning children into soldiers be better than running?

Reltan bellowed commands behind her, whipping his line of civilians into shape. Even if their bows weren’t the best and half of them hadn’t shot one in decades, they’d go down fighting.

As if that was worth a damn.

“Wolves!” Nola shouted. “And snakes!”

Cara set her bow to Force and readied a shot. “Stay calm,” she shouted, “and focus on any that get past us.”

Nola shot an arrow, and a wolf howled from the forest.

Cara tensed up and half drew her bow. Why wasn’t Ted here already? Where was he? Was she an idiot to hope help might be on the way?

Deep-Forest wolves charged out of the tree line, a tidal wave of gnashing teeth. Between them slithered more of those blasted snakes, each one nearly as wide as a wood elf and three times as long.

Cara added her arrow to the volley, striking a snake in the head, not that it seemed to notice.

Many of the wolves stumbled and fell. Even more did not, and none of the snakes even slowed.

How many were there across the entire battle line? A hundred? A thousand?

Cara nocked another arrow and downed a wolf. Counting enemies didn’t matter. They all had to die.

She loosed another arrow, piercing a snake’s head. The dungeon spawn convulsed twice, then stopped moving entirely.

White projectiles streaked out from the casters. Blasts exploded amid the dungeon spawn, slaughtering entire groups of wolves.

Maybe this wasn’t so hopeless after all.

“Gorillas!” Nola shouted. “Incoming gorillas!”

Ice filled Cara’s veins. Multiple?

Dozens of them leaped down from the tree line and charged toward the wood elves. Massive strength, fur tougher than plate, and more than capable of jumping up into the trees and ripping the conscripts to shreds.

And one was heading straight for Nola’s archery nest.

Not. Good.

Cara finished off a wolf that had gotten past Kegan and nocked her myrellium arrow. “Gramok, one-two on the gorilla!”

Her heart pounded in her chest. This had to work. The ranger groups left and right would help clean up after dealing with their own foes, but by then—

This would work. It had to.

She cast Imbue Stun and hissed, “Ro’ronkatara-fa si.”

Silvery magic swirled around her trusty arrow, ready to create an opening.

Gramok swung his shield over his back and positioned himself in the path of the great beast, clutching his sword in two hands.

Wait for it, wait for it…

The stampeding gorilla leaped, and Cara took the shot.